


A Lithomancer Walks Into a Bar

by Emerald_Gay



Series: Make Love and Necrowarfare [2]
Category: Magic: The Gathering (Card Game)
Genre: Fantasy queer labels, Fantasy queer people, Just a good ol' meet cute murdering some jerks, some transphobic language, trans!Gisa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25541737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald_Gay/pseuds/Emerald_Gay
Summary: Nahiri meanders through Innistrad after being released from the Helvault, and decides to stop at a tavern for the night.A chance encounter with a certain charming necromancer changes her plans forever.
Relationships: Gisa Cecani & Nahiri
Series: Make Love and Necrowarfare [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828012
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	A Lithomancer Walks Into a Bar

Nahiri hated this plane. Its connection to her colleague-turned-enemy notwithstanding, the plane itself felt vile. Innistrad’s pulse was just as strange and twisted as Zendikar’s, but where Zendikar beat strong and loud, Innistrad’s music was just a faint rhythm of madness and mockery.

_ Innistrad doesn’t even owe it to the Eldrazi, _ Nahiri thought.  _ Yet.  _ To her, this place was just a grim reflection of its overseer: stuffy and rotting from the inside out. Her current mission was simply to move its inevitable death forward a few millennia.  _ After all, a century may be all I have left now.  _ Nahiri had lived a long time, thanks to her own abilities and the former glory of the planeswalkers, but while she was trapped in the Helvault -  _ a fitting name -  _ she had unknowingly been stripped of her immortality.

Lost in thought, she barely noticed her destination until she was standing right outside of it.  _ Geist’s Brew. _ A simple tavern where she could rest the night and get out of the perpetual rain of Nephalia. Pulling her collar higher, she stepped into the tavern.

The room that lay before her was warm, but damp with beer and the sweat of dock workers. She spied a lit stone fireplace where travelers hung their cloaks to dry, and a collection of tables and booths seating all sorts of people looking for a drink. As she entered, the faintest touch of black magic on her skin almost made her stop. Instead, she turned her gaze to the source of the feeling: a woman and her companion sitting by the door. Like Nahiri herself, the woman’s hood obscured most of her face, save for a pair of very expressive eyes. The woman’s companion appeared to be nodding off into the side of the booth. 

The seated woman gave the Kor a coy wink before returning to her beverage.  _ Wasn’t expecting that kind of attention on Innistrad. They’re all so backwater I thought same-sex attraction would not even occur to them. Though, I guess I am in the region that’s the haunt of necromancers and flesh merchants alike. Odds are us “deviants” would end up here as well. _

Nahiri went up to the bar and ordered a drink, quietly nursing the beverage as she relaxed.  _ Perhaps it’s not all bad here. This ale is quenching my thirst nicely. _ After a couple of mouthfuls, her attention began to wander and her ears keyed into a rather animated conversation between four merchants at a nearby table.

“And I’m tellin’ ya, the fish I caught was this big!” the man gestured with his arms wide open.

“Of course it was, Johnson.” A stout-faced companion of his smacked him on the back. “And this week last I had tea with Olivia Voldaren,” he said laughing. The other two at the table joined him.

“Oh, don’t bother him too much, Gunther,” a third, reedy man said. “A trade route of his fell to undead this past Woundsday.”

“I heard about that,” the stout-faced Gunther replied, his mirth dropping. “Do you think it was a lapsed graf or did you upset the local ghoulcallers?”

“I’m not sure what happened, to be honest! And I was there!” Johnson exclaimed in between large gulps of ale. “One minute everything is ship-shape, and the next, ghouls come pouring out of the forest like water down a stream. At least it was over quickly.”

“Damn rot-lovers,” the fourth man scoffed, letting out an ale-scented burp. “Stitchers and ‘callers alike. I hope Avacyn purges the lot of them.”

“Now, Leonard,” Gunther said, “some o’ them can be amenable. Johnson, didn’t you say a ghoulcaller cleared out your farm last month?”

“That’s-”

“Who gives a damn about how well-behaved one measly rotter is?!” Leonard slammed his hand onto the table, rattling his neighbors’ drinks as he stood up in a rage. _Clearly this man has a bone to pick and too much ale in his veins_ , Nahiri thought. “They deserve the horrible end that comes to them. I’d wager that many of our concerns would be assuaged if those damn Cecani brothers hadn’t been put behind bars but instead to the gallows,” Leonard continued. Nahiri was expecting the man’s companions to try and calm him down; his outburst was visibly rattling the other guests.

What she was  _ not  _ expecting was the sudden flood of black magic from the woman in the corner, and the palpable waves of rage spilling from her.  _ Oh, this will be interesting,  _ Nahiri thought. She loved a good bar fight, and there was little in this tavern that could have a chance of harming her before she could retaliate or planeswalk away. She decided to continue calmly sipping her ale as she watched the situation unfold; she paid her tab early just in case there wouldn’t be a bar to pay at afterwards.

“Leo, you’re causing a scene,” Johnson said soothingly.

“I’m causing a scene?!” Leonard screamed, sweeping his arms outward, “How about that ghastly Cecani heir waltzing about in a dress, pretending lipstick on a pig can-” Leonard’s rant was stopped short by a large hand grasping the back of his neck, choking him as it raised him off the ground.

“Would you mind repeating that, darling?” the woman in the corner said. The hand wrapped around Leonard belonged to her companion, which Nahiri could now easily see was a ghoul.  _ A well-behaved one at that. _ The woman stood up and removed her cloak, revealing a tattered wedding dress and a black veil cascading over dark hair. She carried a macabre shovel with her, its blade in the shape of a twisted skull. As she walked over to the mens’ table, Nahiri saw that her eyes were bright with rage and an ear-splitting grin was on her face.  _ That is not a smile of mirth,  _ Nahiri noted.  _ That is a threat.  _ “I’m not sure I could hear you properly from the corner over there. Who are the heirs of the Cecani?” The ghoul tightened its grip on Leonard as many of the patrons began to leave the bar in haste. Perhaps foolishly, the man’s companions stayed behind.

“Stitcher Geralf,” Leonard choked out. The woman nodded earnestly. “And Mad Gior-” Before he could finish his sentence, Leonard’s neck snapped with a whistle from the woman, his limp body sliding to the floor. The woman whistled a short upbeat tune as black mana coursed from her into the dead merchant’s body and his limbs were filled with an unnatural life.

“Now,  _ I _ am the one who decides who I am. Not gross men in a dying tavern.” She snapped her fingers and the newly created ghoul stood up. “Go find your home and destroy it,” she said maliciously, before turning to the former man’s friends. “Terribly unfortunate for you all that you associated yourselves with this  _ pig,” _ she said, spinning around quickly with her shovel raised. The impact the blade made with Gunther’s neck cleanly separated his head from his body, and the severed appendage rolled towards the fireplace. 

The remaining men screamed and attempted to run out the front of the bar. They had appeared dazed at Leonard’s sudden death, but the shock of seeing another of their friends murdered apparently broke them out of it. Unfortunately for them, the woman was one step ahead, and with another whistle from her the front door was ripped open by a large two-headed undead that grabbed the fleeing men in its four arms. “I see you’ve met the Maalfelds,” the woman said gleefully, flicking the blood off the blade of her shovel. The large undead continued to squeeze until the two men crumpled under its superior strength. And at last, the mystery woman’s attention turned to Nahiri.

“And then there’s you, the pale woman,” she said suspiciously, facing Nahiri directly as her undead continued to wreak havoc and draw screams outside. “You don’t seem to be a vampire. Perhaps an angel in disguise?”

Nahiri had to laugh at that. A bitter, angry laugh, but one nonetheless. “No, nothing of the sort. I’m not from...” She paused. 

The other woman laughed. “Ah, a woman of mystery.” The ghoul from her booth pulled up a chair for her and she sat. “What is your business with this dingy establishment?”

“I’m more curious about yourself.”  _ Was the necromancer blushing? _ “What was your business with the men here?” Nahiri asked. 

The woman’s curious, playful demeanor vanished, replaced by the pressure from earlier. “The first man was mistaken as to my  _ identity _ . I sought to correct it.” 

Nahiri’s brow furrowed momentarily at the emphasis on the word “identity,” before she blinked in sudden realization.  _ This woman is wearing an ill-fitted dress, its lines for a curved body, not a squarely set one. She has filled it out nicely despite that....She has a strong jaw with no visible hair on her chin, but I can see a small scar on her neck approximately where a man’s apple would be.  _

_ She is one Tested by Cosi. _

Nahiri preferred the merfolk’s names for the gods of Zendikar, as they were closer to the truth of the gods: mere half-memories of the Eldrazi Titans. Cosi was the god of trickery and the land and was known for playing tricks on the native Zendikari; whether those pranks were the result of drunkenness, mortal tricksters or divine causes was best left to philosophers.

One tale told of Cosi switching the minds of two people, waiting until their loved ones figured out the deception before reversing it. The tale was meant to teach people about the awful feeling of having expectations placed upon them that they could not meet. Over time, this tale gained an additional meaning. People started claiming to have been deceived by the trickster god, stuck in bodies or minds that were not their own, desperate for their loved ones to recognize their true selves. Some had found love in less conventional places. Others had found their true selves hidden in the depths of their minds and absent from their images in the mirror.

She knew that what people called themselves varied between the planes and the centuries - being “Tested” might not even exist anymore. She also knew that what this woman needed was support. Well, as much as Nahiri’s meager heart could give after years of isolation.

“I see,” Nahiri replied, taking a sip of her ale. “He was threatened by the success of a beautiful woman such as yourself.”

The necromancer’s blush returned, all former malice vanishing from her face. She stood from her chair and walked towards Nahiri, sliding in right beside her at the bar, her bright eyes staring intensely into Nahiri’s. “I’m Gisa,” she said with a smirk, “and I think we’re going to be the  _ best  _ of friends.”

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by Volchitsa_of_Winterfell


End file.
